


If

by Shinsun



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Canon compliant (kinda), Depression, First Kiss, Idiots Who Break Each Other's Hearts, Kagami As The Saving Grace Angel Who Fixes Everything, M/M, Masturbation, Not-Quite-Breakups, Not-Quite-Dating, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Play-By-Play, Potential Menage A Trois, Puremine, Teiko Flashbacks, emotional breakdowns, emotions and shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2054001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinsun/pseuds/Shinsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aomine and Kuroko’s innocent relationship in middle school is shattered when Aomine starts self-destructing and pushes the person he loves away. Now, after Seirin’s brutal defeat against Touou, even the relative calm and normalcy Aomine invented to keep himself from getting hurt is breaking…and if Kuroko can’t stop these last few feet of his fall, who can?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Because I owe the world an AoKuro angst fic... I found a picture with this title, and it kinda stuck with these two in my head. I know I really shouldn’t be starting -more- fanfics when I’ve got so many I haven’t updated in forever, but when inspiration calls… We’ll just see where this goes, alright?  
> Feedback is much appreciated, as always, it means more than you know.  
> -Shinsun

Chapter 1

Aomine Daiki did not cry. Of course not, his anatomy didn’t allow for such wussy ridiculousness; the only liquids that ever streamed down his cheeks were sweat, shower water, and - on the odd, rare occasion - blood. Never tears. The ducts at the corners of his eyes were too damn tough and hardened to produce them, he figured.

If, however, Aomine’s chest did feel unnaturally tight;  throat too thick to swallow, eyes burning and itching even when he tried to blink the sting away, he wouldn’t make a big show about it. He sure as hell wouldn’t break down and punch the locker in front of him hard enough to dent it and produce an echoing, deafening bang, biting back a screaming sob of frustration and anger and loss….definitely not that last. No, he certainly wouldn’t crumple to the locker room floor, breathing painful and erratic, and hang his head with a deep sigh of despair, covering his eyes with his hands.

When some of his teammates came rushing in at the loud slamming noise and found him on his knees in such a position, it was just because he’d dropped his phone and was crouching down to retrieve it, that was all. They, unfortunately, seemed to have other ideas.

“Pressure finally getting to you, Aomine?” Wakamatsu asked coolly, and Aomine could just picture his smug face looming from the other side of the locker room, along with Imayoshi, Sakurai, and - _fuck_ \- Satsuki.

“Shut up,” he spat viciously, rising to his feet, arms snapping to cross over his chest as he glared haughtily back at the bastard.

“Hey, not my fault if you’re going to be little bitch about -”

“I said shut the hell up!” Aomine snarled, baring his teeth and feeling a twitch of guilt as Satsuki shrank away from the belligerence not intended for her.

“Are you alright, Aomine-kun?” she broke in, voice wobbling, and Aomine had to fight a cringe, hearing her call him that. She insisted on it, despite how often he scowled and protested that the formal, impersonal title sounded gross coming from her. He knew the real reason he detested it. Her compassionate, gentle voice invoking it sounded too damn much like Tetsu, and dammit, that was dangerous, unstable ground for his thoughts to tread right now. Especially after…

“I’m fine,” he grit out, forcing a careless, arrogant sneer, “We won, didn’t we? Even doubled their score, thanks to me. I’m fucking super.”

“You don’t look it,” Satsuki murmured, wringing her hands, “Was it because we saw Tetsu-kun agai -”

“No.” Aomine cut her off, throwing his jacket on almost violently and turning to walk away, “Just forget about it. Worry about your own damn self.”

“Aomine,” Imayoshi’s sleek voice broke in, and there was a note of steel in it. Reluctantly, Aomine halted, but didn’t turn back around.

“What.” he said shortly.

“If whatever this is inhibits your game-play, I will personally make sure your ass is glued to the bench; understand?”

Grinding his teeth, Aomine slung his bag over his shoulder with a jerking motion and threw a reply over his shoulder, “I understand, _Captain_.” Laying a delicate stress on the word, he pushed past the locker room door and stormed out, footsteps so harsh they echoed in the wide, empty hallways, and probably should have left molten singe marks on the tiles behind him. It took him a moment to realize he didn’t know where he was going in the huge, unfamiliar building, and he stopped at the edge of a stairwell, still seething though he didn’t even know why anymore.

“Dammit Tetsu,” he cursed under his breath, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

Oh, he had expected the outcome of today’s game, of course he had...the only one who could beat him was his own damn self, after all, and there was no way in hell a mediocre team like Seirin was going to change that fact...regardless of Tetsu’s presence on said mediocre team. But some part of him had hoped, nonsensically, that Tetsu had beaten all odds and found an answer; found the player more amazing than Aomine that he’d promised existed out there somewhere. Some part of him that he’d kicked down and suffocated almost to death for months since leaving Teiko behind had hoped he would somehow lose, when he and his former “shadow” had finally reunited on the court, wearing different jerseys and different expressions but carrying that same old intertwined history between them.

Whatever. This was not the time or the place for remembered sob stories - not that Aomine was the sobbing type - in fact, he should have been celebrating his victory, like the rest of his team. But that victory felt hollow...even more so than what had become normal for him. Every time he tried to feel jubilant that he’d qualified for the Inter-High and freaking doubled the score of his most recent opponent, he remembered the despairing, haunted look in Tetsu’s too-blue eyes as he lay on the polished wood floor….remembered the cutting words falling from his own lips as he looked down on him; _“Your basketball will never win.”_

Yeah, he could be a real dick sometimes. At least he could admit it to himself, but underneath those words of scorn that he’d seen had cut Tetsu deep, there had been a wealth of frustration and disappointment welling up inside him. Disappointment. That was one emotion he’d never wanted to direct at the person he’d believed in and supported with everything in him since the day they had met. He’d cheered Tetsu on, all but waved fucking pompoms when he finally reached his goal and became a starter on Teiko’s team...but he’d actually wanted to get in his face and scream at him by the time today’s game had ended.

_This is what you give me to work with?! You latch onto a shiny new “light” and promise a challenge, and then fall over yourselves like a bunch of fucking bowling pins when I’m not even trying? You’ve got to be joking!_

Of course, he didn’t say any of that, but that dismay and fettered anger had been a large part of why he’d blown up in the locker room; why, even if he would never admit it as long as he lived, he’d had to dash honest-to-God tears from his eyes before Satsuki and the others could see them. It was cruel, though...for Tetsu to get his hopes up like that and then fail to deliver. Kagami had seemed promising, he admitted, even if he’d crashed and burned pathetically when Aomine first tested him on the street court. He’d been moving stiffly and painfully then; perhaps he’d been injured, and Aomine had tentatively hoped for more from Mr. Dim Light when they faced each other for real. What a letdown that turned out to be; just another weak opponent he could crush to dust while barely lifting a hand.

And Tetsu….Tetsu infuriated him all the more. Refusing to give up even when his defeat was inevitable, plain as fucking day; mocking Aomine openly - though of course the bastard didn’t intend to. What was he supposed to do? Pull punches so his failure wouldn’t be as total and devastating? Reassure him that he’d tried his best and that was all that mattered? He knew the reason Tetsu tried so hard was because he knew Aomine couldn’t stand people who gave up too easily, but trying and trying while failing helplessly and completely wasn’t any better, goddammit! He’d talked big and put up a relentless fight, but in the end he’d been blown right over like a house of cards. Why bother and take up Aomine’s valuable time in the first place? He’d finally reunited with the person who had once inspired him to play harder, practice longer, give everything he had...and he’d been bored. Bored and frustrated fit to explode because underneath it all, he’d expected more...so much more from his little “shadow” that now stood beside a different light.

An unwelcome, half-buried memory reared its head, and he tried to shove it down, actually pressed the heels of his hands to his temples where he stood beside that stairwell, but the dusty, sentimental snippet of the past wouldn’t be stopped from trickling back into his mind.

_“Tetsu, have you ever kissed anyone before?”_

_They were lounging amiably side by side, on a park bench, watching the playground fall into red and orange shadow as crying children were ushered home by the stern hands of departing parents. Aomine’s elbows rested on the basketball in his lap, his Teiko bag rested against his calf where he’d set it on the ground, and his gaze rested expectantly on his friend beside him._

_“No, I haven’t,” Tetsu replied mildly, sounding unfazed by the impromptu question, but Aomine could see in his round, wintry eyes that he was surprised, “Have you, Aomine-kun?”_

_“Nah,” Aomine grinned, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “But I’d like to try it sometime, wouldn’t you?”_

_“Maybe,” Tetsu said, shifting so that one of his knees brushed against Aomine’s, subtly scooting closer to him._

_“Who would you kiss, if you could?” Aomine asked curiously, returning his hand to his lap, placing it lightly on their adjacent knees._

_“That depends,” Tetsu turned his head away to gaze back at the playground, his pale hair and equally pale skin illuminated with rosy highlights under the setting sun._

_“Yeah, I’m not sure either,” Aomine admitted carelessly, “But I really do want to know what it’s like.”_

_Tetsu turned back to him, something uncertain in his otherwise inscrutable eyes, and he moved a few centimeters closer, “Then…” he said slowly, “I would like to kiss Aomine-kun.”_

_Aomine blinked, taken aback, “Hah? What do you mean?”_

_“Aomine-kun…” Tetsu murmured, leaning up slightly to try to compensate for their difference in height, “May I kiss you?”_

_Fidgeting, Aomine commanded himself not to shy away from that penetrating, sincere gaze, “Um, ah, I dunno, I…” he stammered._

_“Please,” Tetsu added softly, and Aomine’s resolve broke; he was undone by the genuine compassion and curiosity in his friend’s familiar eyes._

_“Uh...okay, sure,” he shrugged, banishing the beginnings of inhibitions threatening to surface. What could go wrong, really? If it was too awkward, or felt too weird, it wasn’t like they ever had to do it again, right? It was just an...experiment, between friends. Yeah._

_Seeming hesitant, Tetsu rose up on his knees, bracing a hand against the back of the bench, and his face loomed over Aomine’s, searching him with crystal clear, inquisitive blue portals. Tetsu bit his own lower lip indecisively, so close that Aomine could count his silvery eyelashes, and feel his warm breath puffing lightly against his chin. But he didn’t act, holding himself back and appearing to wrestle with himself._

_“Well?” Aomine managed, not a little anxiously...this would be his first time kissing another guy - kissing anyone - after all, and he was both excited and a little apprehensive about that._

_Slowly, Tetsu closed the remaining few centimeters separating them, and tenderly touched their lips together. It was a frightened little peck, those smooth, cool lips barely even making contact with his own, but something like an electric shock jolted through Aomine, and his hand lifted to cautiously sift through Tetsu’s silky hair, inviting him with a gentle pressure to the back of his head to press harder, fit their lips together more fully. Tetsu did, a soft breath released from his nose as it slid against Aomine’s, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, and after a few minutes of tentative contact, he withdrew, a tiny thread of spit connecting them briefly before it broke with the kiss itself._

_Tetsu’s cheeks were a little pink, but whether it was embarrassment or something else, Aomine couldn’t be sure, “How….how was that?” he asked quietly, his voice that was always rather soft even more subdued._

_Tracing his lips with his tongue, savoring Tetsu’s lingering flavor on them, Aomine gave him a crooked half-smile, “Hey, it was my first kiss, I’m not sure. Maybe if I had something to compare it to…?”_

_Tetsu looked at him in confusion, but then it seemed to click and a tiny smile tilted his lips - lips Aomine now knew on a personal level - upward as well, “Alright, if Aomine-kun wishes it…” He leaned close and pressed their mouths together again, this time with more assurance, wrapping his slender arms around Aomine’s neck._

_If Aomine had known then that that first real kiss would lead to only a few dozen more before he would be bereft of those clear blue eyes and soft, sweet lips forever, he would have taken more time to savor each one while he had the chance._

Mind returning to the present, Aomine registered that he was leaning his folded arms against the metal banister of the staircase, staring into space absently, and someone was yelling at him.

“Aomine-kun! Aomine-kun, are you even listening to me?”

Jerking, startled more than he cared to admit, Aomine whipped around to see the familiar and definitely ticked off form of Satsuki standing right behind him, hands on her hips, pouting angrily at him.

“Not really,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and averting his gaze.

“I was asking what you’re doing over here all by yourself. Everyone else has already left.”

“And you came looking for me,” Aomine said bluntly. It wasn’t a question.

Satsuki sighed, “I’m worried about you, Aomine-kun; you haven’t been yourself today.”

Aomine just grunted a sound that could have meant anything, stepping away from the stairwell and Satsuki and trudging in the opposite direction.

“It’s about Tetsu-kun, isn’t it?” Satsuki prodded insistently, jogging to catch up and falling into step beside him, “You haven’t seen him since middle school, and now…”

Aomine sighed, covering his eyes with a hand, “Yeah. Yeah, okay? It’s Tetsu.” He took a deep breath and walked out the doors of the building with her, glancing up at the sunset painting the huge gymnasium - the adults’ playground - with red and orange, “....It’s always been about him.”

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Aomine had never considered himself to be brooding. In fact, he'd been told by many that he didn't think _enough_ , and charged into things on a half a whim...others who were less kind commented snidely that he didn't have enough brain cells to think about anything except for boobs and basketball. And hell, maybe they were right. Assholes and pricks, the lot of them, but honest ones at least. He personally would have just added Tetsu to the list; at least...he would have up until recently.

However, Aomine's already limited spectrum of interests had dwindled even further in months past, and with the huge blow of losing his interest in basketball, there now existed an enormous void in how he spent his time, in his daily thoughts, in his very being. And with the falling out between him and his former "shadow" - and former friend - he could scratch Tetsu right off too. No Tetsu, no basketball; that left...boobs.

Not that Aomine had a problem with that; he never got tired of looking at a decent set of nice, bouncy tits, so look he did, for generous stretches of time. But either something in the weather had killed his typically raging teenage hormones, or the conflicted reunion with Tetsu during the game the day before was still bugging him, because - for whatever reason - he just couldn't focus on the round, creamy breasts laid out like the finest art before him, as he disinterestedly flipped through the magazine he held. He couldn't figure out why even his beloved Mai-chan brought out no reaction, not even a hint of interest; his mind wandered, and he was growing painfully bored, only briefly skimming his eyes over the skimpy bikinis the much-adored model posed in before turning the page. Maybe he was overthinking it. And he _never_ overthought boobs...just looked, and enjoyed. It occurred to him eventually that he might have been trying to distract himself from thinking about something _else_. Something much less harmless than a nice pair of cans.

It wasn't as if he could perfectly block out what was riding him either; whenever he closed his eyes, he was speared by icy, penetrating pools of the clearest, brightest blue, and something unpleasant would tug at his stomach, making him feel queasy. And though he kept his gaze glued to the round hips, sunkissed skin, and flowing dark locks in front of him, in the back of his mind he kept thinking of the smooth white planes of Tetsu's face, a slender waist he could easily and snugly wrap his arms around, and short, pale strands of hair tickling his fingers or the side of his neck. A complicated, bittersweet mass of emotion was churning in him, and he hated it. He hated not knowing what to do, not knowing what to feel; he would much rather things be simple….but nothing was ever simple where Tetsu was concerned.

With a long-suffering sigh, he let go of the gravure magazine he'd held open over his head where he lay sprawled out on his back, dropping it on his own face, and was plunged into blessed darkness. When exactly darkness had become preferable to boobs, he had no idea, and the notion freaked him out a little, but he pushed it aside for now, folding his arms over the magazine to better block out any lingering light. Maybe he could just take a nap here to pass some time…

"Aomine-kun!"

Grumbling at the loud, shrill voice breaking into his peace and quiet, Aomine lifted the corner of the magazine covering his face, glimpsing Satsuki crouching right beside him, shooting little pink daggers at him from her eyes.

"What," he said dully, not moving from his position.

"You know what," Satsuki retorted, "You weren't at practice again, and I find you lying on the roof like a lazy -"

"No point," Aomine interrupted bluntly, letting the magazine fall over his eyes again like a makeshift sleep mask.

"What do you mean _no point?_ You know Imayoshi-san already threatened to bench you once, if you don't start taking your responsibilities seriously, he might really do it."

"Tch, no he won't. He needs me too much; they all do."

He could almost hear steam escaping Satsuki's ears, "He could decide he doesn't need you anymore, you know! You are part of a _team_ , you should start acting like it!"

Aomine shrugged, "Even if he did make me sit out, I wouldn't care; I'll just start skipping games too."

"Then what's the point of being on a basketball team?"

Aomine sat up, Mai-chan's smiling face falling into his lap, and stretched leisurely, "Maybe I'll just quit the team," he yawned.

Satsuki just stared at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar; she kind of looked like she'd been slapped in the face.

"Keep your mouth open like that and a bug might fly in," Aomine commented carelessly.

Her mouth snapped shut.

"...Who _are_ you?" she asked after a moment, in little more than a whisper, sounding betrayed, and a little frightened.

She didn't give him time to decide on a sarcastic enough answer, standing up straight and turning on her heel before walking away, starting to descend the ladder that lead up to the roof.

She paused, looking over at him sadly, "I feel really sorry for you, Aomine-kun, and I know I'm not the only one. Think about that." With that, she started climbing down the rungs, her pink head gradually disappearing from view.

When she was out of sight, Aomine let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding through his teeth, "Well fuck you too," he muttered, lying back down stiffly and folding his arms under his head.

Watching the clouds pass overhead, he reluctantly obeyed Satsuki and thought about her parting statement - brooding again, which wasn't getting any more normal for him to do - wondering if he should let it mean as much as he knew it was intended to. He knew who she was referencing, when she said she wasn't the only one who felt sorry for him, and he didn't like the huge, painful knot that formed in his throat as he acknowledged that, swallowing hard to try to get rid of it.

 _I didn't think I could feel_ worse _than yesterday…_ he thought ruefully, throwing an arm over his eyes with a groan of frustration. Satsuki and Tetsu, they both knew how to piss him off, pitying and patronizing him all the time. He was not a goddamn child, and was really starting to loathe being treated like one.

_"I know you are frustrated, Aomine-kun, but don't take your anger out on other people,"_

_"Fuck off, Tetsu…."_

Gritting his teeth, Aomine raked his fingers up into his hair, as if he could pull the memories out of his head before they could fully form, but, just like before, they would not be stopped from tormenting him, taunting him, laughing in his face.

_"You made Momoi-san very upset...you shouted at one of your own teammates and stormed out…" Tetsu's gaze was impassive as ever, but there was a hint of reproachfulness in his voice._

_"I already talked to the new coach about that," Aomine growled, his pace becoming brisker on the puddled ground, so that Tetsu had to jog to keep up, "He said -"_

_"You can't just stop coming to practice, Aomine-kun," Tetsu interrupted baldly, "Whatever the substitute says."_

_"Yeah? Watch me."_

_Tetsu stopped, and, startled, Aomine faltered as well and glanced back at him._

_"What happened to you?" his "shadow" asked softly, the dismay in his eyes briefly illuminated by the headlights of a passing car, "Ever since the Kamizaki match at nationals, you have been different...bitter."_

_"I already told you," Aomine muttered, averting his gaze, "It's pointless; the only one who can beat me is me. The match at nationals proved it to me, that's all."_

_Tetsu took a step closer to him, eyebrows drawing together slightly; the only indication he gave that he was angry, "Don't say 'that's all' like it's nothing," he said in a dangerously quiet murmur._

Aomine tried to break off the train of thought there; tried in vain to stem it before it got bad, and jerked the magazine in his lap open, gazing at the pictures blindly as the memory just kept going like a reel of film in his head.

_"It's not a big deal, Tetsu. What happened earlier today isn't either, I'll just be absent from practice sometimes; it doesn't affect you at all, so just fucking drop it!" He hadn't realized the volume of his voice was rising as he went on, until he was shouting by the end of it, hands clenched into fists._

_There was a drawn-out moment of silence, and Tetsu just looked at the ground for the duration of it, as if the puddles on the sidewalk would reveal the answers to him._

_"It is a big deal," he responded after a moment, tilting his head up to meet Aomine's eyes; his own were unusually sad, the emotion very clear where it was normally a bit hard to tell what he was feeling._

_No...stop...fucking stop…_ Flinging Mai-chan's photobook over the edge of the school as hard as he could, Aomine got to his feet and got moving, as if he could escape his own thoughts, his own very recent, very real past.

_"And not that you would notice, but it does affect me," Tetsu went on, wringing his hands in front of him; something Aomine had never seen him do, "It's affecting you too. You are angry so much of the time; you yell at everyone, including Momoi-san...including me."_

_"Tetsu, I didn't mean -" Aomine began, sensing the tense, ominous atmosphere between them._

_"If you start skipping practice, then I no longer want to be your 'shadow'," Tetsu whispered._

Breaking into a run, Aomine scrambled down the ladder, letting go when he was still a good two meters from the ground, not even registering the twinge of pain as his feet absorbed the shock when he landed, almost sending him to his knees with the inertia.

_"What...are you saying?" Aomine asked warily, crossing his arms._

_"I'm…" Tetsu began, but he was cut off._

_"Are you breaking up with me?"_

_Sighing, Tetsu started walking again, trudging right past Aomine, giving a morose reply over his shoulder, "Were we ever really together? We practiced together, and sometimes kissed, and now...not even that. You said…you don't even remember how to receive my passes anymore."_

_Impulsively, Aomine reached out and snatched his hand, preventing him from walking away. Tetsu halted, but didn't turn around. His hand was so small, Aomine's almost smothered it, and it was cold, like Tetsu's skin always seemed to be before Aomine's furnace-like body heat warmed it up._

_"Don't do this," he pleaded - and he never pleaded with anyone, for anything._

Aomine didn't know where he was going, sprinting blindly as if he was being chased; his pounding footsteps were reverberated in the empty halls, his sawing breath almost as loud, and to his surprise he found himself almost crashing into the doors of the gymnasium. He skidded to a stop, winded, and recognized that he'd cornered himself.

_"It's already done," Tetsu muttered dully, and yanked his hand out of Aomine's grip, the strength of his small arm as surprising right then as it was on the court._

_"But -"_

_"Please don't walk me home anymore, Aomine-kun. Don't follow me." If Aomine had listened closely, he would have heard the shake in Tetsu's voice that betrayed the gathering tears he was concealing, "I'm sorry."_

Sinking to the ground with his back to the gym door, Aomine slumped, pressing his face into his own hands, and then his knees, his breath coming harsher and faster than it should have, _Fuck…fuck fuck_ fuck….

That whole day had been a nightmare. Even before Tetsu breaking up with him - assuming they were together to begin with - and then avoiding him, refusing to talk to him unless absolutely necessary, for just about the rest of middle school. He didn't seem angry, or distraught, or anything like that...just distantly sad and detached, and that was probably what bothered Aomine the most about it.

Well, it seemed like he finally moved on now, and had a brand spanking new, albeit dim "light" to send all his passes to. They even seemed to get along well, maybe better than he and Aomine had. A nasty little voice in the back of his mind wondered if it was possible that the two were together, like he and Tetsu had been. _Who cares if they are? Why should I give a damn?_

He supposed he could pass it off as ridiculous all he wanted, but as he unsteadily got to his feet and tried to regain some of his composure from what he could only describe to himself as a panic attack, he reluctantly admitted that the thought of Tetsu in someone else's arms - tender, gentle lips in someone else's possession - made him feel sick with rage. And some stupid, senseless hurt he could never quite push away.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It took almost an entire summer for Aomine to put Tetsu at least somewhat out of his head. But while he appeared to his teammates to have reverted back to the arrogant, lazy ace they all knew and loved (read: despised with a hot, fiery passion and would leap at any chance to throttle), the beleaguering conflict Tetsu had triggered during that fateful match against Seirin had by no means diminished. No, it only continued to haunt him; to grow and latch itself deeper inside him, multiplying and festering like a poisonous cancer...he’d just gotten better at hiding it from them.

The quarterfinal match against Kise served as a good distraction. Imayoshi had not followed through with his threat to bench Aomine, and though it was a...mildly interesting game, as clashes with Kise always were, and the copycat blond put up a tremendous struggle; of course in the end, Aomine triumphed easily. He’d known he would before he even stepped on the court with him.

The sidetrack was only fleeting, though; after the brief perk of interest the game induced, the dullness, the washed-out grey the world had faded to since his final year at Teiko, settled right over him again. And, like an old dog he couldn’t bring himself to put down, the memories - _Tetsu’s_ memories - and all the stupid, painful regret that came with them crawled back to him as well. But he didn’t break down in the locker room again, after yet another lifeless victory against one of his former teammates and friends that he could have achieved in his sleep. He held his head high, sneered at the retreating Kaijou players’ backs, and left the building without a backward glance.

It turned out a plastic smirk and a strategically-placed gravure magazine could fool his teammates into thinking everything had returned to normal, but he couldn’t say the same of Satsuki, who continued to pester him relentlessly, apparently forgetting she was supposed to be giving him the silent treatment after her cold-shouldered words on that rooftop. Or his parents...who he was beginning to think were convinced he was depressed or some shit. He’d eavesdropped on a few conversations he wasn’t meant to hear, and they had noticed he played with his food more often than he put any in his mouth, and said very little when he could get away with it, avoiding seeing both of them and just holing up in his room most of the time. He deliberately brought them the news of his victory against Kaijou, and that he would be playing in the finals of the Inter-High, to see if that eased their worry and stopped them from snooping in his personal business, and it must have worked, because his privacy remained undisturbed.

He was still dogged by vivid, random flashbacks that froze him in his tracks and even wormed their way into his dreams sometimes...and he still skipped practice, even after the finals, where he’d been forced to stay on the bench on Akashi’s orders - and Satsuki’s, supposedly on account of him “injuring” his elbow - both of which pissed him off to no end.

The latter had lead to an honest-to-God fight between Satsuki and himself, in which he’d accused her of meddling in his business, and insulted her; promptly receiving a book to the face when she flung it at him in retaliation...and then she’d turned around and burst into hysterical tears, running away from him before he could scramble up a goddamn apology. He’d never been able to stand seeing her cry, and being the cause of her tears made some deeply-integrated, brotherly part of him that he’d tried and failed to suppress over the years cringe with shame.

The next time he’d seen Tetsu had been during Seirin’s match against Kirisaki Daiichi, and even though he’d been in the stands, Aomine had almost _felt_ his anger at the deceitful team’s underhanded style of basketball, radiating off the court like waves. It was rare that Tetsu showed real passion of any kind - though he was in fact a very passionate person behind that impassive blue stare - and Aomine hadn’t expected that he himself would revel in watching a pissed-off Tetsu just as much as a happy Tetsu, but he had...to the point where he’d had to make some half-assed excuse for his sudden escape to the bathroom at half-time. No way in hell was he admitting that he’d gotten excited, watching his one-time friend and teammate misdirect the shit out of those cocky, backstabbing bastards.

To tamp down the inconvenient and rather obvious evidence of that excitement, he’d opted to turn himself off, instead of get himself off, though. A sad five-knuckle shuffle over a public, porcelain bowl to whatever vague, juvenile fantasies he could invent of Tetsu seemed just a little too pathetic for his taste. Not that he would have had much to work with anyway; he’d never gotten both feet off first base with Tetsu while they were kind-of-sort-of together...or even saw him nude. Their relationship - whatever it had been - had circled more around emotional attraction and friendship, and the physical stuff had only caught up later on. ...At the worst possible times, in Aomine’s case; he couldn’t believe he’d actually popped a boner just watching Tetsu play ball.

So his emotions concerning Tetsu - when he acknowledged them - were definitely muddled, and weren’t getting any simpler with time. Time that was, it seemed, against him. Running into each other again and straining the tension between the two of them was of course inevitable...but it came much quicker than Aomine had expected.

Almost directly after Seirin’s game against the douche squad Kirisaki Daiichi, Satsuki informed Aomine - and the rest of the team, but it somehow seemed like she was singling him out - that she’d nabbed the match-ups for the Winter Cup, and their very first opponent was...Aomine should have guessed. He refused to show any visible reaction to the news of their impending rematch with Seirin, muttering an aloof “Is that all?” before gathering his things and swaggering out of the locker room, to the annoyed gazes of his teammates.

The act of indifference was just that, however. An act. Beneath the surface, his stupid, conflicting emotions were at war. He wasn’t sure if he should be elated because he was going to play against Tetsu again, or uneasy because _holy shit, he was going to play against Tetsu again._ Scorn seemed like his best bet; after all, he had trounced Seirin once, it should be no real trouble to do it again. And yeah, that would mean digging the hole he’d put himself in even deeper, and he didn’t look forward to the prospect, but at least the thought of another mindless, unsatisfying victory was comfortingly familiar, in the face of standing on the same court as the guy who’d ignited his passion for a while, kissed him a couple times, and then dumped him.

He’d prepared himself for that reunion. What he hadn’t prepared himself for was Imayoshi announcing out of the blue that they were going to give Seirin a little pre-battle greeting, and meet up with them at the hot springs they were apparently visiting. Naturally, he’d dug in his heels and adamantly refused to go - claiming the idea was stupid and pointless - for as long as he could, but in the end Satsuki had chastisingly hit him over the head with the sheet of Winter Cup brackets, called him a whining five-year-old, and effectively convinced him to come along with the rest of his team.

So there he was. Rolling his eyes as the big bad captain of Touou’s revered and feared basketball team conspiratorily whispered to the others that they were going to sneak up on the Seirin guys while their backs were turned, and then reveal themselves through the steam and act like they’d been there all along. The whole lot of them were like a bunch of damn Tetsus - except a great deal less terrifying phantom and a great deal more cheesy pop-up book.

...And they called _him_ the immature idiot.

He would not take part. He was Aomine _fucking_ Daiki, and while he might, if conditions were right, occasionally prank, it would at least be a _good_ prank. Besides, he wasn’t particularly in the mood to get wet, or strip, or any of that bullshit. Muttering that he was going to take a piss, he ditched his idiotic company and ended up loitering in the hallways of the bath house, wondering what the hell he was even doing there.

Leaning against a rather shabby wall, he cocked up one leg and crossed his arms, closing his eyes and considering taking a nap until this stupid trip was over. He hadn’t tried napping standing up before, but he wouldn’t put it past himself, and he was tired after yet another restless night chased by words he couldn’t take back and piercing blue eyes, calm and still as a lake in winter. It occurred to him distractedly that if he’d gone with the others to give Seirin their “greeting”, he might have had opportunity to see Tetsu naked. He didn’t know if the sinking feeling in his stomach was disappointment or nerves, but either way he supposed he’d missed his chance.

Sternly commanding himself to stop thinking about it, he broke off and froze as he heard lowered voices coming from around the corner from where he was standing, muffled through the wall between him and the speakers. With a minor jolt he recognized the first person’s deep voice as Kagami’s, and with a decidedly _not_ minor one he recognized the lighter, softer voice of the person who answered as Tetsu. He couldn’t hear exactly what the exchange was, but he caught a few words here and there; a “Pocari” from Tetsu, a “sold out” from Kagami, and then there was the fading sound of footsteps.

Indecision was probably Aomine’s least favorite human response to pressure. Those goddamn “fight or flight” instincts kept animals alive in the wild, but just caused him unnecessary stress and made him call himself ten kinds of pussy for overthinking the situation...overthinking the convenient, familiar brand of drink he held loosely in his hand that would serve as the perfect ice-breaker.

Heaving a sigh, he steeled himself and rounded the corner, stalking soundlessly over to where Tetsu was laid out on a bench, eyes hidden by the small blue towel draped over them. He argued with himself for another few seconds as he stood beside that bench, glancing ruefully at the bottle in his grip, then at Tetsu’s reposed figure...and then, _fuck it,_ he made up his mind.

“Here,” he said tonelessly, setting the Pocari on the bench, beside Tetsu’s uncharacteristically flushed cheek.

“Thank you,” Tetsu answered primly, lifting the cloth covering his eyes slightly, and Aomine saw the exact moment that he realized who he was looking at; his whole body went tense and his dizzy, possibly overheated eyes widened the barest bit. “...Aomine-kun,” he murmured, sitting up with obvious difficulty and looking him over with critical, but deceptively impartial blue lasers.

Aomine took a few steps back, trying not to look like he was retreating, creating distance for himself. He busied himself feeding the drink machine beside the bench a few yen and punching one of the buttons, bending to retrieve his beverage at the satisfying thunk that followed; when he straightened, he was very aware that Tetsu’s eyes hadn’t left him for a second, practically boring holes in his tracksuit. He popped the tab of the can in his hand, releasing a hiss and a burst of fizz, and slouched against the wall across from Tetsu, taking a sip that he pretended was relaxed.

The tension in the air was so thick and rigid, Aomine could smell it, taste its bitterness that had nothing to do with the grapefruit-flavored drink he’d swallowed, feel it pressing against his face like a thousand unfamiliar hands. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, but he managed to convince it to produce sound, say something; insurmountable as the task seemed.

“I saw your game,” he muttered, recognizing what he was saying was even a diversionary tactic; turning to the one subject on which they could almost always agree, “Was that the new technique Satsuki mentioned?”

He didn’t honestly care much about fancy disappearing drives, unless they were being used against him; he just wanted an excuse to talk to his former “shadow” again. However many exhausting emotional acrobatics he’d suffered through over him, however many sleepless nights he’d weathered, some tiny, tentative part of him admitted that - underneath everything else - he missed Tetsu. Missed him like a friend, missed him like a brother, missed him like the captivating, star-crossed lover he’d never had. It was a physical ache with no alleviation; not even seeing and speaking to Tetsu right this moment soothed the gaping hole his absence still left.

“Yes,” Tetsu replied after a moment, not breaking his mostly inscrutable, but definitely wary gaze, “I developed it to use against you.”

So that was it. Since his devastating loss, Tetsu had been working on new ways to try to beat Aomine and...what, redeem himself? The idea itself was pretty laughable; _Tetsu_ beating him, that was impossible, but even so...he had to grudgingly admire the sentiment behind the statement. The same way he’d more openly admired how Tetsu had stayed long after practice in middle school to hone his skills on his own, with the hope of being promoted to Teiko’s first string. He’d been working hard, and Aomine supposed he couldn’t fault that.

He could, however, pass the notion of Tetsu defeating him off as ridiculous, “Is that so?” he chuckled lazily, mockingly, taking another swallow from his can, “Well, I would wish you luck if I didn’t already know you won’t be needing it. Hit me with your best shot, but the one who will win the Winter Cup has already been decided.”

Tetsu rolled the Pocari that had been offered to him between his palms absently, “Nothing is decided,” he stated quietly, but with conviction.

Aomine opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted as a long, powerful arm was casually slung around his shoulders, and Kagami drew up right alongside him, smirking all over his damn, brainless face.

“Kuroko’s right; we might just give you a run for your money, _Aho_ mine.”

“Get off me, bastard.” Aomine scowled, extricating himself harshly from the buddy-buddy gesture that Kagami had no right to perform, “And not even in your wildest wet dreams; the only one who can beat me is me.”

To his surprise, a flush of embarrassment flooded Kagami’s cheeks, turning them close to the color of his hair, and he ducked his head away briefly, “D-dumbass, don’t say it like that,” he stammered indignantly, before straightening and appearing to regain his composure.

It was a strange, strange thought, and one that really didn’t belong within ten meters of Aomine’s mind, but as he set down his drink and scrutinized the redheaded, American idiot before him scornfully, he couldn’t help but think that somehow Kagami Taiga was capable of being stupidly adorable.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((So sorry for the inconsistency of my writing lately, hopefully I'll get back into a regular pattern soon. In the meantime, have a new installment to a pretty old story, and at long last, a turning point for our poor protagonist.))

Chapter 4

He’d never seen Tetsu cry before. He’d never seen those inexpressive crystal blue eyes fill with tears, or even blink too rapidly or look away to try to suppress them. They were never there in the first place. Nor did Aomine ever imagine that he could be the cause of such tears, that he would ever be the one to make Tetsu -- fucking _Tetsu_ \-- break down and cry. It was nearly enough to incite him to take out his fury and aggravation and _guilt_ on his surroundings; kick the timeout bench or crush his water bottle, try to knock something over and raise some of the hell he could feel clamoring all through his stomach and chest. He couldn’t look at Tetsu, slumped on his own team’s bench, just enough of his face uncovered by the towel draped over his head to reveal the clench of his jaw and the tears tracking slowly down his cheeks.

 

He could all but feel Tetsu’s frustration, though; could all but sense the bordering hopelessness emanating off of him, and it pissed him off. What did he expect? What did he hope to accomplish this second time around that he hadn’t completely failed to deliver before? A few months of training and some fancy new techniques couldn’t possibly have been enough to stop Aomine, or even stand in his way. And, just as he’d predicted, once he’d gotten accustomed to those flashy new moves, it had been all too easy to throw Tetsu’s bullshit right back in his face.

 

So, after pulling his little stunt, Tetsu had been put on the bench, and Aomine was forced to quash a painful rush of disappointment as he stepped back onto the court, gritting his teeth and facing his pathetic adversaries like a procession of ants in his path. Only one of those ants was standing tall, burning crimson eyes boring into his own, steely determination carved into the solid lines of his face. If Kagami was feeling the heat the rest of his team was, he didn’t show it, and it wasn’t enough to startle Aomine, but he had to admit his jaw relaxed and curiosity stirred when the resolute redhead was given the ball. Something passed between them, in the split-second that they locked eyes, some communication that almost slid right past Aomine, and Kagami relinquished the ball as quickly as he’d taken it, passing it off to a teammate and forfeiting the chance to face off against Aomine.

 

Aomine wasn’t _surprised_ , per se, nothing that idiot did could have surprised him, he didn’t think, but he did straighten a little more slowly than he otherwise might have, wary of some ploy he wasn’t clued into.

 

“Running scared that fast, Bakagami?” he taunted, an arrogant sneer pulling at his lips.

 

Kagami didn’t visibly react; the same stubborn, unwavering look setting his features in a hard glare. “I’m not running from you.”

 

The ball came into Aomine’s hand like a trained animal, and he crouched, driving it against the polished floor menacingly once, twice, “We’ll see about that.”

 

Kagami couldn’t possibly have read his movements; he darted in seemingly on instinct, and in a split-second, Aomine tore the ball away from him before he could touch it, ready to sink it effortlessly into the net like he had every time before. There was no reason it should be any different now, and the only reason he didn’t feel resigned or disappointed as he set up the shot was because at this point, he no longer felt anything at all at the prospect of yet another crushing, trampling victory to add to the ever-growing list. But this time...this time, just as his bent knees extended and his feet left the ground, just as the dimpled rubber started to leave his fingertips, it was abruptly smacked out of his grasp, like a swatted fly, and as he fell back to earth, Aomine glimpsed a flash of red. _Kagami…? How…? When did he get there?_

 

He didn’t realize his mouth had dropped open in shock until he’d formulated something to say. For much too long, he was lost for words, plain and simple. Part of him stubbornly insisted that what had happened a moment ago had been an illusion, a vivid hallucination, but there Kagami was, watching him with that same obstinate glare, stance as low and wide and relaxed as Aomine’s was, mirroring him.

 

“So...you do have potential after all,” he murmured absently, some unfamiliar emotion rising in him like a bubble and tugging at the sides of his mouth, until he was unsure if he was grimacing or grinning like a fool. “Fine then...I’ll play a little more seriously.”

 

A simple statement, but one full of more dawning excitement and -- goddamn it -- _hope_ than he’d allowed himself to feel in what felt like ages. And in the face of that, everything else seemed to fall away; all his twisted, broken-up emotions, his frustration with the game that had once breathed life into every facet of his being but had lately only made him feel dead, even his own teammates, everything but the ball in his hand and the honest-to-god worthy opponent glaring at him with those narrow, scorching eyes and challenging his every move. It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud, or jumping up and down like an exuberant child, and his wide grin only persisted as Kagami continued to prove him wrong...so completely, wonderfully dead wrong...keeping up with his blazing pace and blocking him at every turn. He didn’t ever want it to end.

 

And so the sound of the buzzer announcing the end of the first half damn near pulled a disappointed groan from him. He was so caught up that he hadn’t even noticed the seconds ticking away on the clock, and now he was practically shaking, heart pounding against his throat harder than he could remember feeling in months, maybe years, adrenaline coursing through him to the tips of his toes and fingers like currents of wild electricity. He couldn’t keep still. He absolutely couldn’t stand idle with the rest of his team and do nothing when he felt like this. Under pressure and sizzling, like he might spontaneously explode at a moment’s notice. Snatching up his jacket, he turned and walked away from them without a word, ignoring Wakamatsu’s aggravated voice ringing out, demanding to know where the hell he thought he was going.

 

He didn’t remember picking up a basketball, but as the cool winter air outside the stadium washed over him, he realized he’d been unconsciously dribbling one at his side for quite a while now without noticing. Shrugging, he faced the single hoop that stood innocently in the courtyard outside the building, letting the ball flick effortlessly from his fingers and plunge through the net. Gathering it up as it started to bounce away, he registered that his cheeks were aching strangely on both sides, and as he reached up a hand to figure out why, it hit him that it was because they were still pulled tight in a huge, exhilarated grin that betrayed his restless excitement.

 

That Kagami was something else, he thought as he set up another shot, forgoing his attempts to fight the smile off his face and laughing softly to himself. Even if he wasn’t on quite the same tier as Aomine just yet, he was damn close, enough to look him straight in the eye, to get in his face and push him, harder than anyone had since he couldn’t even remember when. He could hardly wait to get back on the court and resume their burgeoning battle, to test Kagami’s surprising new potential and see just how far he could go.

 

He was so jubilant, so blown away and full of excitement and anticipation, that for a ten blissful minutes, the wealth of conflicted emotion surrounding Tetsu that had been riding him for months on end didn’t even occur to him. Until the moments before the second half of the game began. Until he suddenly found himself looking into clear blue eyes, facing him with a hard, determined glint in their depths, beside the towering, practical supernova of energy and power that was his faithful redheaded “light”.

He wanted to say something, felt like he should say something, his tongue heavy in his mouth with potential words that would either break or exacerbate the tension between them, but as he gazed into those pale, piercing eyes, he got the feeling Tetsu wasn’t up for conversation. He didn’t seem despairing and ravaged by hopelessness anymore, and Aomine wondered if maybe seeing Kagami at the top of his game had given him some hope as well, even as Aomine himself received it more directly from playing against him. Something in the back of his mind still warned that he shouldn’t get his hopes too high, that he shouldn’t let himself get carried away...but he was barely listening. And by the time the game resumed, for the first time in ages, he was raring to go.

 

.

 

.

 

He was burning. The mid-winter’s night was the coldest it had been all year, but underneath Aomine’s uncomfortably prickling skin, a fire was raging. He still couldn’t breathe properly. Sharp, irregular gasps hissed past his lips as the knot of emotion and nausea that had been building in his chest for over an hour only continued to tighten, drifting ever lower as he lay on his back, staring up at his bedroom ceiling without seeing it.

 

He was sure he’d drawn the concerned gaze of Satsuki and maybe a few of his teammates as he’d trudged with them off the court, but he hadn’t been paying attention to any of that. Head down, focused on his shoes and the glossy floor beneath them, he had all but walked completely blind away from the game he’d lost.

 

Lost.

 

He’d _lost._

 

For the first time he could remember, he’d been defeated in a real game...and he was still reeling, shock and denial and disbelief and amazement warring in the pit of his churning stomach. He hadn’t said a word since he’d stepped off the court, though he’d managed a few to Tetsu and Kagami before the teams had lined up and parted ways.

 

_“Your win...Tetsu,” he’d murmured softly, averting his gaze from those compelling icy eyes, tinted with exhaustion as Tetsu panted for breath and leaned with an arm around Kagami’s shoulder for support. He himself was so overcome by the shock of his defeat that still had yet to fully sink in that only a faint prickle of jealousy broke through the haze._

 

_Lifting his head, he briefly met Kagami’s dark crimson eyes, recalling how they’d blazed and sparked with boundless energy when they faced off, both in the Zone; how they’d flown across the court like gods, unhindered, unstoppable, drenched with sweat and breathing in perfect, rapid synch. Something tightened in his stomach confusingly, and he had to look away, letting out a slow breath with an almost inaudible concession of, “You beat me.”_

 

_Kagami snorted, but the dismissive sound lacked any real heat, “Don’t look so down in the dumps about it, dumbass.” Aomine blinked and looked up, startled to be met with a teasing, but admiring grin. “It was an amazing game...wasn’t it? Let’s play again.”_

 

_He could practically hear his heart thudding in his ears, and told himself it was because of the enormous physical toll the game had taken on him, not because of the gleaming chestnut eyes meeting his over flushed, sweat-streaked cheeks stretched tight as Kagami all but beamed at him. But the pressure gathering low in his belly wasn’t going away, if anything it had only sunk in deeper and hotter, and with a fleeting, oddly guilty glance at Tetsu -- who just shrugged with that tiny, ever-elusive smile of his-- he bared his teeth and met that breathtaking expression, and the challenge, head-on._

 

_“You’re on, Bakagami,” he smirked, feeling some sort of weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying simply evaporate from his shoulders, “But next time, I’ll win.”_

 

_“Oh yeah?” Kagami taunted, adjusting Tetsu’s arm in his supporting grip, “You can try.”_

_“Aomine-kun,” Tetsu interjected, seeking his gaze implicitly._

 

_Suppressing an impulse to rub his chest, over his heart that felt like it had just been tugged viciously by the hope in Tetsu’s soft, subdued voice -- he didn’t know how much more of this confusing, emotional tug-of-war he could take -- he turned his attention to the smaller man. His former “shadow”. And, he supposed, his ex. The person who had once chased and supported him with everything he had, who had later left him to crash and burn on his own, and now...the person who had promised to defeat him, and had actually followed through._

 

_“Tetsu…” he said thickly, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, “I…”_

 

_Tetsu interrupted, even as he faltered and abandoned the attempted sentence, unsure if it would have come out as an apology, an explanation, or a  confession...of everything._

 

_Raising his pale, small but incredibly strong hand, closed in a fist, Tetsu looked at him pleadingly. “We have to line up now. ...But before we do, will you complete the gesture you left hanging, back then?”_

 

_It took a second for the gesture Tetsu was referencing to click, and when it did, he drew up in indignant surprise. “You mean the fist bump? Does that even matter…?”_

 

_“Please,” Tetsu insisted, and Aomine absolutely crumbled, exhaling in defeat and raising his own fist._

 

_“Yeah...alright,” he sighed, bringing their hands together until their knuckles kissed, “But this is...the last time, Tetsu.”_

 

_Tetsu just smiled, allowing Kagami to guide him to where the rest of Seirin was standing, shoulder to shoulder, facing their conquered adversaries._

 

_“No it isn’t.”_

 

The recent memory faded, but just as quickly, it was replaced by another; an endless reel of film scrolling through Aomine’s head whenever he closed his eyes. He still couldn’t believe it. He’d been beaten. Seirin had beaten him, or, more accurately _Kagami_ had beaten him. Though a good deal of the memories flickering behind his eyelids featured Tetsu, and he wondered absently whether their parting had counted as any sort of closure of not, the majority of them were taken up by a tall, fierce, redheaded player with burning eyes and an insane refusal, bordering on inability, to give up.

 

He had to admit it, at least in the sanctity of his own mind, Kagami had surprised him. Utterly _floored_ him by the fact that he’d proven himself Aomine’s equal, possibly even his better, and he simply couldn’t get him out of his head. He could visualize in stunning detail the hot, determined glare he’d fixed Aomine with, and the frenzied passion of his plays as he handled the ball with frantically grasping fingers and tensing muscles, his long legs propelling him to incredible heights, teeth clenched in a desperate snarl, sweat flicking from the ends of his wild red hair.

 

The pressure from before was back, pulling at Aomine’s gut, and in the same moment that he realized what it was, the front of his pajama pants began to feel just a little too tight. Lifting his arm from over his eyes, he let out a sound that might have been a laugh or a groan, rolling onto his side. _Figures…_

 

For a moment, he channeled his frustration into trying to talk himself out of the sudden surge of attraction that had taken hold of him without warning -- or maybe it wasn’t so sudden...in which case, shit, how long had this been building? How long had he been suppressing it without even being aware of it? -- but he quickly realized the effort was futile as, with the lingering adrenaline and excitement from the game coursing through him and the vivid images still fresh in his mind, it didn’t take long for him to grow completely, painfully aroused.

 

Letting out a resigned sigh between his teeth, he dropped a hand almost absently between his thighs, palming the stiff flesh that pressed against the soft fabric barrier that contained it. And instead of fighting it and trying to deny it, this time he let the raw, confusing emotions and ever-present tension pull him under.

 

It was almost scary how easy it was to invent an image. How quickly and effortlessly Kagami leapt into his mind, in startlingly accurate clarity. Had Aomine really studied him, and memorized him, so closely? Had he let his eyes track over the strong, masculine angle of his jaw and chin; the long, taut columns of his throat leading to that sexy little dip at his collarbone? Had he swept his gaze unconsciously over the rock hard muscles that strained under his T-shirt, or his jersey, and even followed with his eyes to see how his ass would fill out a pair of jeans?

 

The realization that he might have been checking Kagami out all this time without even being aware of it was shocking, yes, but it did little to nothing to diminish the desire racing through him in wild, staccato pulses. If anything, as he recalled the blistering heat of those fiery red eyes, the flash of teeth against Kagami’s golden skin as he shot that fuck-me -- well...it was probably supposed to be _‘fight_ -me’ but there was hardly a difference -- smirk his way, his breath only shortened further, and he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of his pants, cupping his hot, straining cock and starting to stroke it, pulling a soft, sighing moan from his own lips. And, as he considered what it might be like to do this to Kagami, to stroke him off and make him gasp and groan, his hips jerked compulsively into his hand, and he clenched his teeth around a real, probably louder desire-laced noise, biting his lower lip to keep quiet.

 

He was too worked up already, from the emotional and physical wringer that had shook him and left him a fragmented, pent-up, shaking mess, to have any chance of lasting. Breathing harshly through his nose, he jacked himself harder and faster, muffled grunts and gasps escaping as he battled against Kagami again, a different kind of rhythm to their synchronized movements this time; nothing, not the basketball, not even the constraints of _clothing_ between them as he looked down into passion-blown, gorgeous crimson eyes, pushing his hips against Kagami’s and hearing his deep voice gone ragged with pleasure, cursing and moaning and begging for him.

 

“Fuck -- Kagami --” he gasped brokenly, twisting his hand and pumping his weeping erection quick and sure, pajama pants shoved low around his hips, as orgasm coiled low in his stomach. His eyes squeezed shut, his toes curling as his legs tensed and shook, and with one last flick of his wrist, he was coming, releasing all the air from his lungs in a burst as his strokes slowed, turning long and leisurely as he stemmed the flow against the tissue he’d seized in his other hand.

 

Wiping the remaining fluid from the head of his softening cock, he tried to slow his erratic breathing, suddenly overheating much worse than when he’d returned home after the game. And branded behind his eyelids remained the smugly smirking, devastatingly gorgeous player that had soundly beaten him twice in one night...though he hadn’t been aware of the second time, the evidence of which Aomine still clutched in his hand. Tossing the crumpled, soiled tissue aside, he covered his eyes with both hands and rolled back over, before lowering them and fixing the ceiling with a vicious glare. If looks could kill, he would be sleeping under the stars right now.

 

And only then, only after he’d come down and returned to his senses, exhaustion finally starting to weigh on his aching limbs and eyes; only then did his conflicted, confusing state of affairs with Tetsu resurface.

 

 _Shit…_ he thought, any possibility of sleeping tonight vanishing in the face of the critical, inscrutable blue eyes that bored into him the instant his own flitted closed. Just as Kagami’s hotter, narrower eyes had done a moment ago.

 

He was well and truly fucked.

 

TBC

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Wow...It's been a year and a half since I updated this story, and somehow I was still able to go back and get back into it? This is unheard of for me, but I just love the concept of this one that damn much. Very little dialogue in this chapter, and like the previous one from...seventeen months ago, it's a bit like a play-by-play at times, but it's the phrasing of things and the fluidity of the language that I'm so attached to in this story.
> 
> Comments and kudos give me life, and keep my stories going strong, feed the author!))


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

The very next day, Aomine got a call from Tetsu, and simultaneously learned what he was pretty sure was exactly how it must feel to have a heart attack. To be fair, he didn’t think he’d gotten a call from Tetsu since...well... _ever_ , actually. Even in middle school, he’d been more of the texting type -- long, polite, grammatically correct paragraphs at that -- though Aomine had admittedly called him a fair few times, back then. Sometimes just because it was two a.m. and he wanted to hear his voice, though he’d never said so, and though Tetsu had always seemed irritated to be woken up so late at night, he’d never asked.

 

Now, though...hearing Tetsu’s voice on the other end of the line just about sent him into a state of shock; his mouth dropped open and his throat closed up, and he was fairly certain his heart had just shuddered to a stop in his chest. That couldn’t be healthy. Tetsu, on the other hand, sounded calm and composed as ever, and he didn’t offer any reason for his call other than asking Aomine to meet him. No further explanation, no matter how Aomine pried, once he’d managed to untwist his tongue and force out any sound that would pass for coherent speech.

 

“I’ll explain everything when I see you,” Tetsu said briskly, “It’s something that should be said face to face.”

 

Aomine wished he could see his face right then, actually, though he doubted he would be able to read his expression any better than his tone. Tetsu was a damn enigma...he’d always been. And it was frustrating, yes, but at the same time it had once been one of Aomine’s favorite things about him. He was a challenge to figure out; where other guys (and girls) tended to wear their hearts and emotions on their sleeves, he kept his hidden away, and always meant a lot more than he said when he spoke.

 

Which was why, when Tetsu hung up after a variation of his usual formal goodbye, Aomine sat in silence for a moment on the edge of his bed, not even taking his cell phone down from his ear, practically vibrating with nerves and excitement and feeling like his stomach was doing advanced gymnastics somewhere in the vicinity of his diaphragm, making him feel giddy and breathless and horribly sick, all at once.

 

Tetsu had called him. _Tetsu_ had called him, and yeah, it had been brief and kind of impersonal, but the very fact that he’d called in the first place, so soon after their game the day before, made it personal. _He wants to see me tonight…_

 

Unable to stay sitting down, he got to his feet and started pacing, changed his clothes, glowered at himself in the mirror and changed back, impulsively grabbed the cologne his aunt had sent for Christmas from his dresser, clenched his teeth and narrowly avoided smashing the damn bottle against the wall and white lilac musking his room to high heaven. This was stupid. He was sweating profusely though it was actually pretty chilly in the room, the collar of his shirt under his favorite white cable-knit sweater felt like it was cutting into his neck, and he was fairly convinced his alarm clock was several minutes fast because there was no fucking way it could be almost six already.

 

Heaving an enormous sigh, he gave his reflection in the mirror one last contemptuous glare, stormed down the stairs with a shout to his mother -- or whoever else was in earshot -- that he was going out, and snatched his jacket off the hook by the door. Whatever Tetsu was after, he was better off just meeting him and finding out than bailing and hating himself for it...or sitting here and having a crisis over whether straight or slim cut jeans showed off his ass better. _Not_ that he was trying to show off his ass or anything. For all he knew Tetsu could be calling him out to rub his victory in his face some more or chastise him for fantasizing about Kagami -- though unless Tetsu was psychic, there was no way he should have known about that -- but still...he couldn’t help furiously hoping that this was about something else. Something besides basketball.

 

.

 

.

 

“Aomine-kun...please teach me to shoot.”

 

_Goddamn it._

 

Of course. Of course it was just about basketball after all. It was the only thing they had in common anymore; the only thing they could ever agree on. Keeping the disappointment firmly out of his voice and (hopefully) his face, Aomine shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away from those icy, imperative blue eyes.

 

“What, seriously?” he scowled at the streetlights overhead, illuminating them both in a soft orange glow, “You beat me and the very next day you want me to teach you how to shoot? Are you an idiot?”

 

“Well as far as I know, you’re the best...” Tetsu explained, rather feebly. Aomine sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

 

“And that’s...the only reason you called me out here all of the sudden?” Shit, he’d just about had a conniption freaking out and getting his hopes up for nothing, then. He hadn’t even fully realized that was what was happening, that he was subconsciously hoping for this to go differently, until those hopes were unceremoniously dashed.

 

He could picture Tetsu watching him thoughtfully, trying to decode him and dig every last one of his secrets out in that way that he had. He did alright figuring most people out at a glance, but by now he pretty much knew Aomine like the back of his hand. And they both knew it.

 

“Are you alright, Aomine-kun?”

 

Aomine laughed, short and dry, because although the question was concerned, and he could bet that Tetsu meant for it to be, it was still spoken without a hint of actual, audible concern in it. As usual.

 

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

 

“You’ll teach me, then?”

 

Aomine waved him off dismissively, starting in the direction of the street court, “I’ll think about it. If you think of a better reason for dragging my ass out here tonight.”

 

After a moment, he heard Tetsu’s softer, quicker footsteps catch up, falling in step beside him, and despite his persisting irritation, he couldn’t hold back a small, contented smile to himself. It had been a very long time since they’d just walked together like this.

 

“Aomine-kun,” Tetsu said eventually, rolling the basketball he was carrying between his hands with a detached expression. Well...more detached than usual, anyway.

 

Aomine grunted something vaguely expectant, but for a few seconds, Tetsu didn’t say anything. Finally, Aomine glanced at him, and caught a glint of uncertainty in his downcast eyes.

 

“What did you…?” Tetsu began, trailing off and stopping at the edge of the court. Aomine turned to face him, roving his eyes almost unconsciously over the deep lavender shadows that gathered on his pale skin, the silky wisps of hair tossed back by the wind from his depthless blue eyes.

 

 _God, he’s beautiful…_ The thought fell into his head like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he tried to swallow past the knot of visceral emotion that was rising up from his chest, caught and helpless in the tide of those blue, blue eyes.

 

“Tetsu...” he prompted in a voice not his own; it was too rough and rasping, strained almost to a whisper in the back of his throat.

 

He wasn’t sure he could even hold a conversation right now, or get out any sound that wasn’t some kind of desperate, animal whine, for that matter, but he knew with absolute certainty that if one of them didn’t say something, this instant, he was definitely going to take those one or two steps forward, pull Tetsu into his arms, and kiss him. He really _really_ needed to kiss him, like he needed to breathe, but that probably wasn’t the best way to breach the distance that had been keeping them apart for so long, and might in fact only push them further apart if Tetsu’s idea of oxygen wasn’t the same as his just yet.

 

_Talking it is, then._

 

“Did you blame me?” Was what he finally managed to get out, cutting his gaze away -- with considerable effort -- from the lucid blue one that was sucking him down like quicksand, pulling him into dangerous territory.

 

There was only a beat of startled silence, “For what?”

 

Aomine shrugged halfheartedly, “For everything, I guess...for Teiko, for us...breaking up.”

 

“I broke up with you,” Tetsu pointed out -- as if he needed the reminder -- face impassive as ever, but this time Aomine could almost see the mask of indifference he was putting up, “And no, you weren’t the problem, you were just a symptom of it. Teiko...was the problem.”

 

“Yeah...” Aomine sighed, hunching his shoulders, “I guess it was.”

 

“That doesn’t excuse your disgraceful behavior toward your opponents in your third year, however,” Tetsu went on bluntly, averting his eyes, “And toward me.”

 

“So you did blame me,” Aomine muttered, to which Tetsu just sighed shortly, closing the distance between them before Aomine had even noticed. Appearing right before him like the phantom for which he was so often named.

 

“No, I didn’t,” he said softly, gazing up at him with a hint of exasperated affection in his otherwise expressionless face, "And I still don't."

 

Aomine wet his lips, very aware of the closer proximity and sure that sweat was starting to break out on his forehead, “T-Tetsu,” he warned breathlessly, “If you don’t back the hell up I won’t be able to help myself…”

 

“I’m not backing up,” Tetsu said serenely, tucking the basketball under his arm.

 

“Tetsu, I want to kiss you,” Aomine insisted, simultaneously a plea and a threat.

 

Tetsu’s pale, slender little fingers closed on the collar of his sweater and jerked his head down, bringing it level with those piercing blue eyes, “Do it. Kiss m --”

 

Before he could even finish the command, Aomine had shot forward, grabbing the back of his neck and crashing their mouths together; deeper, harder and surer than any of the fumbling kisses they’d shared in middle school. He heard the basketball fall to the pavement with a hollow thump and bounce away, but he couldn’t possibly pay that any mind when Tetsu’s arms were slipping under his and circling around his back, pulling him closer until their chests bumped together and his neck was cramping from the strain of keeping their lips connected.

 

He kissed Tetsu like he was trying to eat him whole; pressing, sucking, breathing him in and tangling his fingers in the cool, soft strands of hair at his nape. Tetsu’s lips fell open with a gasp, and without even thinking he dove inside, sinking into the wet warmth between them with his tongue and crossing a boundary they had never touched before. For a second, Tetsu went rigid, but then he melted with a quiet, hungry moan and slicked his tongue along the underside of Aomine’s, tightening his fingers in the fabric of his down jacket to keep him there.

 

It was over much too quickly, when Tetsu finally broke away to gasp for air, letting go of Aomine to wipe away a trickle of saliva that had dripped down his chin. Aomine watched him with burning eyes, panting breaths that misted before him and sliding his hands down from his neck to his shoulder blades, holding him close and marveling at how small he was, how easily that tiny, slender body folded into his embrace.

 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Tetsu murmured at last, leaning his forehead against Aomine’s chest.

 

“Oh,” Aomine said blankly, swallowing as he floundered for what to say, “Same.”

 

Tetsu just shook his head and stepped back, breaking out of Aomine’s grasp and glancing around, presumably for the escaped basketball.

 

“Was that a good enough reason?” he asked, following it to where it had rolled against the wall beneath the single mounted backboard and net, “To call you out here?”

 

Aomine pretended to think about it, joining him under the net and leaning against the wall pensively, “Yeah, that’ll do.”

 

“Good,” Tetsu agreed, straightening and presenting him with the basketball, “Then you can teach me to shoot now, right?”

 

Growling with an edge of teasing he hadn’t employed in ages, Aomine shrugged out of his jacket and reached out to snatch it from him, “Fine, but you owe me, you little shithead.”

 

Tetsu ducked and spun, effectively keeping the ball away from him and dancing out of reach, casting him a glance that was as knowingly inscrutable as ever.

 

“I’d say we’re about even.”

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (('Bout time we got some AoKuro back in there. Don't start thinking either of these pairings are endgame, though, everyone here's still got issues aplenty to work out. These two especially. (Of course it's not gonna be that easy what do you take me for.)
> 
> Still trying to get back into a pattern of regular updates, though they might be all over the place, at least I'm writing again.
> 
> Comments give me life, and keep these stories going strong, feed the author!))


End file.
